Snowed in and not sorry

Control freak, right? So naturally I had crossed every t and dotted every i to prepare the itinerary of our visiting author: meeting with class at 10, lunch with creative writing students at noon, master class at 4, dinner with faculty at 5:30, open reading at 7:30 (extra credit opportunity!), reception and book-signing to follow. I even arranged for the bookstore to have a supply of books on hand to sell at the reading.

Somehow, in the midst of all that obsessive organizing, I neglected to arrange one important element: the weather.

Flash back 20 years; I'm leading some relatives on a tour of my favorite Lake Erie island in the height of summer, but the wind is blowing and spitting a light rain into our faces and I'm fielding complaints that it's too COLD and too WET and too FAR to walk, and I'm responding, as usual, by apologizing, repeatedly and earnestly, until someone, puzzled, asks me, "Why are you apologizing for the weather?"

Yesterday I tried really hard to avoid apologizing for the weather, but it couldn't be helped: as classes were first delayed and then cancelled, as the grounds crew tried valiantly to clear snow and make the campus safe, it became apparent that the weather was going to destroy my carefully-planned event. No public reading, no books to sell or sign, no meeting with cancelled classes--all buried under a mere six inches of wet snow.

It takes a tremendous amount of hubris, really, to apologize for the weather, as if a little more effort on my part could have ensured a warm, dry, cozy visit to the island. I suppose I really wanted to apologize for being a disappointing tour guide, for failing to anticipate my relatives' needs, for lacking an understanding of their physical limitations. "I'm sorry I'm such a sorry [relative]" is probably what I wanted to say, but who can say such a thing out loud? Better to project my flaws onto the weather; better to imply that I could have eased their discomfort if I'd only worked a little bit harder. Surely controlling the weather is not far outside my impressive powers! Surely next time I'll do better!

Yesterday's snow did not have the power to stop everything, however. The author was already here, and while I could not require students to attend an event when the campus was officially closed, I could certainly invite them. We ate lunch. We attended a master class. We enjoyed a great informal visit and some terrific insight into the writing process, both the author's and our own. In the end we flew an author across the country and paid a healthy stipend for a meeting with about eight students--but oh, what a great meeting! And what great weather, which closed us in and pushed us into a place where we could warm our hands on the fire burning deep below the surface of our stories.

I'd like to go back in time and rewind the tape, take back the apologies that cried out so pathetically for approval. I'm sorry that I focus so narrowly on my well-laid plans that I often overlook whatever the wind blows my way, from deep insights to small unexpected joys. I'm sorry that I put so much energy into being sorry. But I'm not sorry about the weather--then or now.